


The Ghost of You

by 7thweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling
Genre: Department of Mysteries, Grimmauld Place, M/M, Mutual Pining, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Relationship never established, Sirius Black’s Death, Slavic vampires, Upyr’, Vampires, but not the classic ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7thweasley/pseuds/7thweasley
Summary: After Sirius’ death, Remus returns to an empty Grimmauld Place. After a few nights, however, he realizes he’s not alone.There are stories about “upyr” in Slavic folklore. They are undead, and therefore restless. This story is about Sirius as an upyr.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 23





	1. Left Behind

_”Avada Kedavra!”_

At first, Remus thought that the curse hissed from Bellatrix Lestrange’s black lips had missed its intended target, for Sirius stood for a moment with his grin still on his face. Time slowed, the split second felt eternal, and Sirius turned his head to make eye contact with Remus once more. Then he fell through the ominous arch and onto the stone floor behind it.

He could see Harry running after Lestrange, but couldn’t hear him screaming. It was as if the world had been muted, leaving only his thudding heartbeat and ragged breath. He dropped to his knees and grabbed Sirius’ shoulders. He shook him, just waiting for him to cough and come back around, ready to curse his bitch of a cousin right back.

But he didn’t. Sirius was draped like some twisted marionette doll in Remus’ arms, and the latter could only feel numb. Remus distantly acknowledged the ground shiver beneath him, and the strong hands on his shoulders.

He looked back. It was Shacklebolt, saying something. “– must go – come on, get up –“

Remus tried to stand, pulling Sirius with him with some effort. Shacklebolt shook his head, and again put his hands on his shoulders, more forcefully this time.

“We have to leave him, Lupin, I’m sorry – we won’t make it otherwise –“

The stone chamber in which the Order had been fighting the Death Eaters was crumbling around them. The corridor to safety was across the room, and everyone else had abandoned their post and was running for it.

“No, please, I can’t – leave me –“

Remus’ protests didn’t reach Shacklebolt’s ears. He was practically dragged, and his grip on Sirius’ wrist slipped. He remembers calling Sirius’ name as if that would do some good, but Remus was pulled into the corridor and Sirius’ body was left in the rubble.


	2. The Reappearance of a Friend

A little over a month after the fight at the Ministry, Remus was still sending letters everyday, demanding that Sirius’ body be recovered. The first few times, he had received nonchalant answers about the Department of Mysteries’ “structural instability” that currently barred any repairs to be done. Eventually, his owls returned with his letters unopened.

Remus was a mess. He rattled around Grimmauld Place, hardly leaving. The property now belonged to Harry, being that he was Sirius’ next of kin. Harry was almost worse off than Remus was, and he couldn’t bring himself to step foot into “that horrid place”. 

It was a Sunday night, and Remus had drank himself to sleep yet again. He awoke slightly after midnight incredibly thirsty, so he dragged himself off the sofa and into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

He stood at the sink, sipping his glass, staring at his reflection in the window across from him. He had to admit, he had looked better, even on the days right after a full moon. His clothes hung off his frame and his scars seemed to raise against his sunken face. He reached a hand up to card through his greasy hair, when a movement near his elbow in the reflection caught his eye.

A figure seemed to stand behind him, walking slowly out of the shadows. Remus spun around, pointing his wand at where the figure had been and accidentally dropping his glass in the process. No one was there.

–

Similar occurrences repeated over the next few weeks. Remus was never able to get a good look at the figure before it disappeared, but he was able to gather a few details about it after each time.

The figure was almost certainly male, but with dark curly hair that came down to its shoulders and covered most of its face. It was boney and pale, though not altogether unattractive looking from what he could tell. What struck Remus the most were it’s bright eyes – almost white in color that were sharp behind the dark hair– and it’s dark red hands. Whether or not it was human was a whole other story, but soon enough Remus started referring to the figure as “he” in his mind, and practically sought it out at night.

The figure never said anything, or at least not so far as what Remus could hear. Once or twice it opened its mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. There were a few places in the house where Remus saw it most; in the kitchen like the first night, the attic where Buckbeak had lived up until recently, and on the landing outside Sirius’ childhood bedroom.

Several more days passed, until one night when Remus was up late reading. The figure had appeared in the dining room this time, peering through at Remus in the parlor. He put his book down, and for the first time his movement didn’t cause the figure to disappear. Instead, it lingered in the doorway.

“Who are you?” Remus choked on the words as they came out. His voice was raw from disuse.

The figure looked at him as if it understood him, but didn’t reply. It turned away for a moment as if to leave, but Remus spoke again before it could.

“Please don’t go.”

It turned back around and looked at him once more. Remus studied what he could see of the figure’s face. There was something familiar about it…

“What’s your name?”

Remus waited again for a reply. The figure slowly raised his hand and swept the hair out of his face in one practiced motion. The action revealed angular eyebrows and a strong jawline, not unlike the one Remus had imagined tracing with his tongue so many times… But wait, that couldn’t be, could it?

“Sirius?”

Remus whispered the name, though it was loud against the silence. The figure smiled, and when it did he was almost certain.

“Moony,” the figure hissed. It was a confirmation, Remus was sure of it

“Sirius! What –“

His words were cut off with the sudden disappearance of the figure, who seemed to turn on the spot.

He was alone again in the ancient house, feeling more confused than he had ever been before.


	3. The Search for Answers

Remus didn’t see the Sirius-figure again for the next few days after that. He had written a hasty letter to Dumbledore, describing the encounter, but had received the following reply:

_”Remus,_

_In my opinion, what you have described sounds like an overactive imagination or an overworked mind seeing things that are not there. How long has it been since you have left the house? Isolation this severe, especially after the loss of a loved one, is not healthy._

_I will be writing to Molly, in the hopes that she will look in on you. Please do your best to return to any sense of normality._

_Dumbledore”_

Remus hadn’t really expected Dumbledore to be much help. The man had distanced himself from the Order since the beginning of the school year, and now even more so after the events at the Ministry. Still, Remus balled up the letter and tossed it into the hearth. To watch it burn wasn’t satisfying enough.

–

The next morning, he decided to Apparate to Diagon Alley. He was hoping to find answers at Flourish & Blotts, or if they didn’t have a book on the subject matter, to at least be pointed in the right direction.

The counter clerk at the bookstore dismissed him almost as soon as he said anything. “We don’t carry anything on necromancy, you’ll have to go to The Coffin House in Knockturn Alley.”

He tried to argue, of course, that he wasn’t interested in raising the dead since it appeared that the dead had raised itself. Regardless, he left the shop with annoyance and headed to Knockturn.

Remus immediately wished he had some sort of disguise to wear, as turning into the dark alley felt like painting a target on his back. Though he was not unfamiliar with the shops (he bought ingredients for his wolfsbane in bulk from Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary), the context was different and the atmosphere was tense.

Upon entering The Coffin House, he let himself wander briefly as there was no one at the counter. One dusty book jacket after the other he combed through, opening a few that seemed promising. After a little less than an hour, though, he was feeling exasperated. 

“Looking for anything in particular, hm?”

The sudden broken silence caught him off guard and caused him to drop the book he was holding. The stranger, a rather ancient looking wizard who looked right at home in Knockturn Alley with the exception of his kind smile, bent down to retrieve the book.

“ _Zombies and Other Undead Nuisances_? Interesting choice for some light reading. Are you writing a paper or something?” asked the old man.

Remus took the book back gratefully and reshelved it. He sighed. He had nothing to lose from telling this man, if only risking sounding absolutely mad.

“More like some personal research. I’ve been seeing things lately – well, one thing in particular. A man I believed to be dead. I see him in reflections.”

The old man thought for a moment. “This man, has he been buried?”

Remus shook his head quizzically. “No, his body has yet to actually be found.”

“Well, then I have news; both bad and good. The good news is I believe you’re describing what Muggles used to call the Dead Ones. Unfortunately for you though, I don’t know of anywhere that carries information on such creatures. Certainly not here.”

With the gears in his head turning, he thanked the man and returned to Grimmauld Place. 

Remus realized, of course, that if anywhere were to have information on such a dark subject, it was the library there.


	4. Making Contact

Remus had been in that library for nearly five hours, as his rumbling stomach reminded him every few minutes. Thus far, he had had no luck. Books were scattered and piled all around him, and every moment that he spent in the room he could feel the scorch mark where Sirius’ face had once been boring into him.

The grandfather clock in the corner told him it was ten o’clock in the evening. He wasn’t making progress, and he certainly wouldn't be able to continue much longer without any food. Frustrated and defeated, he pushed aside the piles and headed down to the kitchen.

Remus was halfway through his reheated bowl of soup when he heard a solid thud from the library above him. Perhaps it was one of his piles toppling, he told himself, and continued eating. Another, more insistent thud sounded, along with the floorboards creaking as if with footsteps. Knowing that he was alone in the house, and hoping to glimpse the Sirius-Dead-One once more, he let his spoon clatter into the bowl and raced up to the library.

Unsurprisingly, though perhaps disappointingly, the library was empty when Remus opened the door. In the middle of the room, however, was one book, with all the other piles thrown into the corners of the room. Remus had seen the book previously, in his mad search, but had overlooked it due to the title not being in English.

_Upyr_ was the title, but to his delight, the rest of the book was written in English.

“ _Known in Russian Muggle folklore as an ‘upyr’, the word best translates into ‘vampire’. However, these creatures, also known as Dead Ones, do not survive off the blood of humans as traditionally believed. … There are many ways in which one can become a Dead One, though the importance of a proper burial is most often cited. … Dead Ones are almost always harmful by nature, as their very purpose is to cause suffering. Should a Dead One have another purpose, however, they might revert to a submissive and benevolent form. …_ ”

Remus skimmed through the small book, convinced that this was what was haunting him. He desperately flipped the pages in order to find some sort of resolution to such a creature.

“ _The removal of a malevolent Dead One can prove difficult if not impossible. They are creatures committed to fulfilling their purpose. That being said, a harmless Dead One can be released from its liminal existence by the completion of aforementioned purpose. This, in addition to a proper burial if not given previously, can grant peace to the individual of whom the creature resembles._ ”

He just needed to determine the purpose of the Sirius-Dead-One, and bury Sirius. The order of which he was unsure. Nevertheless, it was what Remus had been trying to do for months, despite Dumbledore and the Ministry telling him it was no use.

–

Remus awoke from his accidental nap with a start. He had fallen asleep in the library’s armchair, promising himself that he would only be out for half an hour. That obviously hadn’t gone to plan.

He wondered what had awoken him. The library was pitch black; Kreacher must have extinguished the lamps he had lit earlier. He got up with the intention to return to his bedroom when he heard the shuffling of footsteps along the stairwell. 

“Sirius?” he whispered into the darkness. He was unsure if the figure would respond to its old name, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

The shuffling stopped only momentarily. Remus felt his way through the darkness towards the staircase, half illuminated by a streetlight outside shining in.

If he hadn’t been so anxious and curious, Remus would have described the view before him as beautiful. On the landing across from his own stood the Sirius-creature, backlit by the window behind him. He was standing almost perfectly still, and yet there was something so lifelike about the way he was leaning against the railing, clicking his ring against it absentmindedly.

“Sirius,” Remus repeated, louder and more sure of himself.

The creature turned his head ever so slightly to look at the werewolf down in front of him. His face was partially obscured from Remus, as the light behind him blinded his sensitive eyes. The Sirius-figure opened its mouth as if to speak, but only a whisper came out. Had Remus not had superhuman hearing, he might have missed it.

“Where am I?”

It was a heartbreaking question. He didn’t know how to answer.

“You’re h– you’re in Grimmauld Place,” he eventually said, saving himself from saying ‘home’, as if the old house had been anything but a prison to Sirius.

“No.”

“No? You’re on the staircase –“

“Where am I?” the creature repeated with more urgency.

Remus considered a moment. “Your body, it – you haven’t been found, yet.”

“Why?” The question was a hiss of betrayal.

He started to explain, his words tripping over themselves. “The Ministry, it’s closed – Dumbledore won’t let me – I’m sorry –“

“You’ll find a way, Moony.”

The creature then turned on the spot like Remus had seen him do before, and suddenly he was alone again.


	5. The Promise of a Breakthrough

By the next morning, Remus hadn’t gotten much sleep. He had been drafting letter after letter to anyone he could think of; Dumbledore, the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries, even Snape.

He called Kreacher into the kitchen, and somehow convinced the elf to deliver the letters for him, despite not being his master. Surprisingly, he hadn’t put up much of a fight.

Remus knew that until he was granted permission, he couldn’t retrieve Sirius’ body from the Department. That portion of unresolved business would have to wait, for the time being at least. Therefore, he set himself to the task of determining the other point of conflict – Sirius’ lingering purpose.

He racked his brain, trying to think of anything that might be keeping the other man’s soul inexplicably tied to the house, to him. It wasn’t like Sirius had been ready to die that day, but he hadn’t mentioned any outstanding plans or wishes, from what Remus could remember. The book on Dead Ones had mentioned a series of examples that might prolong the creature’s unrest; unpaid debts, impoverished widow, unknown affair, and broken honor were among those mentioned. The list given wasn’t long, but none of the motives seemed to fit his friend. There was one exception that had caught Remus' eye, though: “untold secret”.

Mentally eliminating other reasons, that was the one he could not definitively disprove. It was far too broad, though, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to reveal the secret if Sirius had kept it from him even into his death.

The next few days were dedicated to systematically tearing Grimmauld Place apart while Remus waited for any response to his letters. He was looking for any written record left behind by the man, but had thus far come up empty.

He was leafing through a box of letters and postcards in one of the house’s numerous studies when a tap sounded from the window. Outside it was an owl, undoubtedly carrying a response to his prior badgering.

Upon grabbing the letter and thanking the owl, Remus was surprised to see the Ministry’s official seal on the back of the envelope. He didn’t expect to actually receive an answer from them.

_”Dear Mr. Lupin,”_ it read.

_”We have been working on stabilizing and correcting the dangerous residual magic left in the Department of Mysteries after this spring’s unfortunate events. We are relieved to say that our efforts have been rewarded, and the area is now safe enough to be entered._

_Should you desire to be at the Department upon its cleaning this next Sunday, please reply as soon as possible. We will not permit you to enter the area yourself, but any lost possessions can be retrieved afterwards._

_Thank you,_

_Edmund C. Hornsby  
Department of Mysteries Public Intercedent”_

As much as it inflamed Remus that Sirius’ body had been referred to as a possession, he was overjoyed to know that his request had finally been answered. He would be able to lay his friend to rest in just a few days.


	6. Put to Rest

It was Saturday evening, and Remus had yet to discover the secret that anchored Sirius. Logically, he knew he didn’t need to find it before retrieving his body, but the events promised by the next morning were making him anxious and desperate.

There was one room in Grimmauld Place that had yet to be disturbed by his pilfering: Sirius’ bedroom. It seemed the most reasonable place to hold Sirius’ secrets, and perhaps that was why Remus hadn’t entered it. Even in his death, it felt like an invasion of privacy. Despite how open and affectionate Sirius had been with his friends as a teenager, as an adult he was private and particularly protective of his bedroom. From what Remus remembered, though, Sirius had not slept in that room during the weeks leading up to his death – opting to sleep up in the attic with Buckbeak in his dog form.

But he knew that he would have to enter the room eventually, no matter how difficult that would be. He could feel in his stomach that that would be where this prized secret resided.

So, it was almost nine o’clock when Remus found himself slowly turning the doorknob to his friend’s bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, a wave of emotion hit him as the familiar smell washed over him. For weeks he had repressed the feelings he had harbored for his friend, but this simple thing brought them crashing back. It was almost too much.

He gripped the doorknob so tightly he thought it might break off, trying to steel himself enough to enter the room. Where the other rooms in the house were formal and muted in color, Sirius’ decorative choices were the opposite. Posters and pictures, both wizarding and Muggle, were plastered to cover the dark walls. He had never been an orderly person, so it wasn’t surprising that clothing and random items were strewn across the floor.

Remus walked slowly into the room, careful to keep things as they were, no matter how unorganized. He made his way to Sirius’ desk, and began opening drawers in the hope of discovering some journal or clearly marked letter. He realized, of course, that that would be too easy, and unlike Sirius.

Having exhausted the desk, he moved on to the bedside tables and then the dresser. Still nothing. He felt stupid, assuming that the secret would have some physical evidence. Eventually, he slumped onto the bed, still partially unmade. It was ridiculous, the way he tormented himself, but his mind couldn’t help but bring up how often he had thought about laying beside Sirius on this very bed. Now he never would. Instead he laid down alone, but as his head hit the pillow a strange crumpling noise sounded from beneath it.

He picked up the pillow, and under it was a photograph, somewhat worn and wrinkled from years of being looked at and held. The photo was a Muggle one, still and unmoving, from the Polaroid camera Lily once had. Staring up at Remus was a much younger version of himself – sixteen years old – with his arm sling around Sirius’ shoulder, the latter hiding his face in the former’s shoulder. Both were laughing, unmistakably, and their figures were slightly blurred as if they were moving when it was taken.

Right below the picture, on the white border, was Sirius’ immaculate cursive that he never could shake, no matter how much he tried to unlearn the habit. It read, _”The day I fell in love_ ”.

Remus reread those words over and over, his mind going numb and unable to process it. For years, he had wondered if Sirius felt the same but had longed from afar as to not ruin their friendship. Reading this, he didn’t know how to feel. Joyous, that he had returned his feelings? Wrecked, that they had the opportunity for a life together and missed it?

He realized suddenly that they hadn’t missed it. The life they had together wasn’t perhaps what it could have been, but it had been special nonetheless. 

Remus was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He knew he should try to get some sleep before going to the Ministry the next day. Tucking the photo into his breast pocket, he left Sirius' room for his own and slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

–

It was grey and bitterly cold outside as Remus entered the Ministry. He couldn’t help but think it was fitting; dreary weather for dreary circumstances. 

He was led deep into the Ministry, down corridors he had never been through, until he arrived in a bright stone room. Upon a table was a white sheet, unmistakably draped over a body.

Remus balled his hands into fists, feeling the half-crescent indents forming from his fingernails. He could practically hear Sirius nag him about it: “Moon-shaped marks for my Moony.”

The kind looking witch standing near the table asked him if he wanted to see him. He didn’t quite hear her, but he nodded anyways.

The sheet was pulled back, and there was Sirius, as beautiful as the day he died. The witch was talking again, something about “preserved” and “unpredictable magic”, though Remus wasn’t processing. Up close, he could see the faint crows lines around his eyes, and the streaks of silver near his hairline, but he remained as Remus knew him. 

He leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I love you too,” he whispered, and if he hadn’t known better, he would swear that he saw a faint smile flicker across Sirius’ peaceful face.

THE END


End file.
